


Prometheus Bound

by Hijja



Series: Hellfire [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blackmail, M/M, Mindfuck, Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hijja/pseuds/Hijja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron goes to bait the devils in their own lair…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prometheus Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Belleamante](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Belleamante).



> Written for Belleamante, who asked for something set in the 'Hellfire' universe. It can probably stand on its own, but if you'd like to read in context, [To Me](http://www.the-archive.net/viewstory.php?sid=5347) would be the starter, [Gods of Hellfire](http://www.the-archive.net/viewstory.php?sid=5348) the main course, and this the dessert :)

**Warning(s):** mindgames; perhaps a touch of dub-con

____________________________________________________________

The broad smirk on Rabastan Lestrange's face made Ron feel like a canapé with a cherry on top – or would have, anyway, if canapés had feelings.

He forced himself not to cling to the shirt he was discarding on a chair, nor to shudder at the way Rodolphus's fingers slid down his spine. Or look at the bed that dominated the room.

"I knew from the start that you'd come to kneel at our feet, Ronald," Rabastan murmured.

It was too warm in the little room with the roaring fireplace and the proximity of two predators, all kitted out in black robes, knee-high boots, and the long hair of wizarding tradition. Usually, that looked like nothing more than a quaint anachronism, but now, the sight made the breath catch in Ron's throat as if the silky strands were clogging up his mouth.

Ron had seen the Lestrange brothers during the war, gaunt, nervous and more wraiths than wizards. Over the past months, however, their bodies had filled out; they'd grown sleek like well-fed, pampered cats that could now turn their minds from hunting for survival to play. That was the supreme injustice – where Ron's friends and family were run ragged with shame and fear, the enemy thrived.

He fought for composure. "Kneel? Now?"

"Not yet," Rabastan whispered. His mouth almost touched Ron's while his fingers worked on the front of Ron's trousers until he could pull out his prick above the laces, leaving his balls inside in an uncomfortable tangle. "We'll make you beg for mercy first."

Just a game, Ron told himself feebly as his prick swelled in the rough grasp. Over by morning.

"You came to _us_ , after all," Rodolphus Lestrange chuckled, slipping his hand into the loosened waistband of Ron's trousers from behind; a warm touch against his tailbone, then the man's nails scraped over his buttocks. "I just wonder, did you want us, little rebel, or merely to spite Lucius?"

Ron swallowed, hyper-aware of the nails raking his arseflesh and of his prick, growing fat and sticky in Rabastan's hand.

"You," he croaked. "Lucius just wants me as leverage to protect the ferret. That makes him ours already."

"We, on the other hand…" the older Lestrange mocked, "we own you now."

"You don't!"

Panic spilled over Ron's skin in a crawling mess of gooseflesh as Rabastan tore the trousers off his hips altogether, leaving him exposed and shivering to mock his brave words.

He almost crawled backwards into Rodolphus' arms when Rabastan let go of his cock and picked a sizeable metal clamp from the toy chest on the table, snapping it open and shut in front of Ron's nose to display its shiny fangs. Rabastan traced Ron's left nipple as if to look for the perfect angle to affix it.

"I think we have what we want, little one."

"Tonight," Ron qualified, then let out a harsh groan when the clamp closed around his nipple. Pain spilled like acid through his chest. He cringed back and froze when he encountered Rodolphus's hardness against his buttocks. It took all the courage he possessed to add, "Once. Out of... goodwill," as he watched Rabastan root through the chest in search for another gleaming clamp to match the first.

"In your place, Ronald," Rabastan murmured, "I wouldn't try to be impudent." He snapped the second clamp on Ron's right nipple with so little care that it wrung a scream from Ron's throat. He writhed in Rodolphus's embrace for a moment, and his erection deflated visibly.

In horrified fascination, he watched Rabastan pull a length of chain from the box and clip one end to each clamp. A heavy golden lion head pendant dangled from the chain, and when the Death Eater released it to hang freely, the pull hurt nearly as much as it had when the clamp had first bitten down. At first. Then the pull became constant, became torture. His eyes started to water.

"Shush, pet," Rodolphus soothed behind him, reaching around Ron's hip to give his cock a squeeze. "You’re not making a sacrifice for our sake – you _are_ the sacrifice."

Against his better instincts, Ron snorted. "Do you really think I'd have come to you without a good reason?" He was surprised how dismissive his voice still managed to sound. An instant later, all he wanted was to scream out loud when Rabastan tugged at the lion's head. The clamps bit into him as if his nipples were about to be torn off his chest.

"You better control that tongue of yours, little blood traitor." The man reached for another clamp and snapped it open in front of Ron's mouth. "Before _this_ does."

His eyes travelled down from Ron's face and lower, much lower. Ron could literally feel his balls crawling up into him with terror. No safeguards beyond the 'no lasting injuries' condition the _geas_ imposed, he'd promised. He'd been barking mad!

"I know you can do whatever you want to me," he admitted, licking his dry lips. "But I'm here to offer you a deal, and if you refuse to even _listen_ I swear we will cut you off!"

The ultimate threat – organised rejection of a member of the other side, resulting in him being unable to earn the monthly points required – leaving him to the collective punishment of the 'offended' group for breaking the rules.

Rabastan's hand closed around Ron's throat, not quite choking him, but delivering an eloquent warning. "Your lot haven't managed to pull that off in half a year, boy."

Ron sagged against Rodolphus's chest, breathing heavily against the constriction. "We do now," he ground out.

It hadn't been all that hard to convince the younger Slytherins – many of whom hadn’t even been Death Eaters in the first place – to enter into a pact. Setting no safeguards to rake in the highest number of points available, and then, by unspoken agreement, never crossing the line or doing as much damage as the agreements they'd entered into would permit.

Letting go of Ron's throat, Rabastan pulled his wand from his robe with the speed of a trained sorcerer. Ron gulped. The wand was long and curved, its handle well worn from use. A flick, and connected leather cuffs snapped shut around his wrists, then pulled them up above his head until he trembled on tiptoes from one of the ubiquitous hooks that decorated the ceilings and walls of most of the mansion's rooms.

Rabastan toyed absently with the lion pendant, sending pinpricks of pain through Ron's nipples. "Do you? Well, Ronald, if you're so desperate to speak to us – by all means do."

Wobbling on cramping toes, Ron's heart raced. "I propose a deal," he rasped. "You hold back, even with those of us who come to you without safeguards. We'll do the same. No one's left out, so we can all make our points safely."

It would turn their weekend assignments from nightmare to somewhat odious routine, and if it worked, it was more than worth a bit of pain.

He encountered Rabastan's bemused eyes and added, quickly, "I'm not saying you can't do… well, _this_." Flustered, he nodded at the lion head pendant and the cuffs. There were some, even on the Light Side, who liked to play these games just fine. Remus, or Bill… "Just not with the unwilling." And not, he added mentally without daring to give voice to his fears, with the sole intent of breaking their victims into pieces that would never quite fit together again.

"Isn't that exactly what Lucius has been trying to tell Potter for months?" Rabastan inquired with a raised eyebrow. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Well, yes…" Ron swallowed uncomfortably. "As much as I hate to say it, that's the point where Malfoy's right, and Harry's wrong."

"Is he, now?" Rabastan asked. "Neutralising the Death Eater threat – isn't that what you're supposed to be all about? After all, the Ministry wants us occupied with the _geas_ , at each other's throat with no time – or energy – left on our hands to cause further 'trouble'."

Ron lifted his head to meet Rabastan's eyes straight on, trying to ignore Rodolphus's hand stroking his hip with fingertips far too close to his aching groin.

"I don't give a fuck about the Ministry," he growled.

Rodolphus hugged him close from behind and brushed warm lips over the fading scars criss-crossing Ron's shoulders, most of which his wife had inflicted and which Snape's potion was slowly beginning to heal. Ron was acutely aware of the growing erection that pressed against his arse through the older Lestrange's robes.

"Your own brother, even…" Rodolphus breathed in mock-pity across Ron's ravaged flesh.

"This isn't about Percy!" he snapped, angry at the insinuation and even more so at his voice, which gave the lie away. It wasn't! The _geas_ hadn't been Percy's idea, even though he hadn’t fought its introduction remotely as hard as he should have, too preoccupied with keeping himself clear of it and proving his loyalty to the Minister.

"Of course it isn't," Rabastan purred, exchanging a pointed look with his brother over Ron's shoulder. "Though tell me, Ronald, if you'd been asked… If it had been your decision to make…?"

"I wouldn't have let them do this to us," Ron said, hard. "Not to me, not to Harry, not to _anyone_."

Rabastan lifted the clamp he was still toying with and ran it, closed, along the inside of Ron's upper arm. "And yet here you are." His leather-encased knee nudged Ron's prick. "I didn't take you for a coward."

"I'm not so much afraid of what you can do to us," Ron said, then screeched when Rabastan grabbed his cock and scraped the sharp end of the clamp over the slit. He bit down on the side of his tongue.

"Truly?" the bastard inquired mildly.

Trying to ignore the clamp that now traced the veins of his cock, Ron added, "I'm more afraid of what we do to ourselves."

He hated seeing Kingsley and Moody – or the twins – playing the Death Eaters' own games of cruelty and exploiting weaknesses. Making themselves feared by the other side. Hated even more that, in order to make the breaking of _geas_ commitments a real deterrent, they had to match the enemy's own considerable sadism. Ron hadn't been awake when the Order had punished Bellatrix for injuring Hermione, but he'd seen Hermione's white face and Harry's thin mouth whenever the topic came up, and knew he'd do anything to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

Most of all, however, Ron hated the memories of Remus fucking the ferret which preoccupied his imagination. The shameless, open-mouthed lust on Draco's face, Remus's utter focus on coaxing the boy's response. Ron itched to get that unfreckled, bruisable flesh under him, to wipe every trace of a sneer from Malfoy's face for good and leave him a sobbing, panting mess. Dealing with the younger Slytherins – Nott, or Zabini – had turned out less unpleasant than expected, although Zabini's raised eyebrows made him feel as if he was lacking in all the important departments. And Ron actually _enjoyed_ being with Snape.

But Draco… he _wanted_ Draco, to do evil things to him that the Lestranges would recognise, to hurt him just to watch his face and body crumble. So far, he'd managed to stay away from the pointy-faced bastard, leaving him to Harry, who certainly didn’t harbour any such feelings. But oh, Ron wanted him, he really did, and wasn’t that just the most fucked-up thing of all?

"Ah," Rabastan breathed. "But that's _your_ weakness, poor boy. Why should we care?"

"Because it would benefit us both," Ron insisted. "It would spite the Ministry. And it would set us free. All of us!" Or as free as they could ever be under the _geas_ , Ron added to himself.

Rabastan's lips quirked into a slow smile; he ran his fingers over the nipple clamps, flicking one after the other until a high whine escaped Ron's throat like an out-of-tune fiddle. Sweat beaded his forehead.

"Your side certainly picked a good negotiator to plead their case."

Rabastan nodded at his brother, who kicked Ron's legs apart further and then Ron felt Rodolphus prise his arse cheeks apart with both hands. Something slick and ice cold was smeared over his hole, and the sharp smell of mint rose to his nostrils. Ron sucked in a harsh breath and braced himself.

The cream cooled the agonising burn of being breached, but then started to flare even worse in an insidious, chilly way. Ron squeezed his eyes shut until he felt Rabastan touch his cheek. He peered up just in time to see the man lifting away a wet fingertip and tasting it with his tongue. Ron flushed, then groaned when Rodolphus thrust forward.

"We'll consider your proposal, Ronald, never fear," Rabastan promised as Ron's legs spread to accommodate his brother's cock. "But for tonight, we'll take you up on your offer."

His smirk deepened and he stepped close, pressing himself up against Ron as closely as Rodolphus, and crushing the clamps against Ron's chest. Ron shuddered as the sensation of another thrust mingled with Rabastan's teeth grazing the thin, freckled skin over his Adam's apple. Dark hair fell like a sheet around Ron's bare shoulders.

"No holds barred, wasn't it?" the Death Eater whispered. "And just as it should be – after all, it might be the last time."

 _~ finis ~_

**Author's Note:**

> Written in September 2008.


End file.
